Getting Played (Getting Some, #2)(56)
Dean hands the bottle over. “A couple sips. Don’t chug it.”
The smell of my father’s cigar wafts through the window. “I was a guitar man, back in the day. When Fender was new.”
“No kidding?” Dean asks.
Listening to the three most important men in my life talk, and knowing my dad approves of Dean—he doesn’t tell his guitar stories to just anyone—is the best Christmas present I could’ve gotten.
~
Dean
I don’t know what wakes me—but something does. We knew we’d be getting back late from Lainey’s parents’ place, so Grams packed a bag and we all decided to spend Christmas night at Lainey’s house. But everyone’s been asleep for hours now, and the house is still and quiet. The weight of Lainey’s head rests against my arm. I run my hand down her side, over her stomach where the baby lays.
That’s when it happens. The boop, the bump, the nudge, the kick—I feel the baby moving under my palm.
And it’s the wildest fucking thing, a miraculous thing. My vision goes blurry as I watch, wait, to feel it again.
“Hey, in there,” I whisper. “Merry Christmas. We all really can’t wait to meet you.”
As if it’s answering me back, another little jolt kicks up against my hand.
So incredibly cool.
I lay there, waiting for more movement, but after a half an hour, I figure the baby’s gone back to sleep. So I slip out of bed, pull on a pair of sweats and head downstairs to check everything out, to make sure all is as it’s supposed to be.
Lainey’s made some good progress decorating the past few weeks. The kitchen, the living room, Jay’s room and two other upstairs bedrooms are finished. And Christmas is her favorite holiday, so the house is a veritable wonderland of wreaths and bows and soft glowing lights. She’s got real evergreen garland along the fireplace mantle and an eight-foot spruce in the corner of the living room, decked out in silver and gold stars and popcorn garland.
I do a lap around the first floor, looking out the back window at the shadowed trees, double checking the locks on the doors and windows. I walk back upstairs and peek into Jason’s room—where he sleeps in a burrito of blankets. Then I check on Grams, where she’s snoring away in the queen-sized bed of one of the finished spare rooms.
I close the door and go back to our room, stripping out of my sweats and slipping back into bed. Lainey shifts, turns, I wrap my arm around her and she curls against me.
“Dean?”
Her skin is soft and warm and she smells so good.
“Yeah, baby, it’s me.” I kiss her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dean
January
On Sunday night, I leave Lainey editing a video in the living room and Jason reading in his bedroom, and head home. Grams will be the first to tell anyone that she’s self-sufficient—and these days, her social life is more active than mine—but I don’t like to leave her alone too many nights in a row with only Lucifer for company. And I stayed over Lainey’s Friday and Saturday night—fucking her in all kinds of creative ways to accommodate her ever-expanding midsection. God bless Mother Nature.
We did it with Lainey riding me fast and dirty while I teased and toyed with those highly sensitive pink nipples. We screwed standing up in the shower with my knees bent low and Lainey’s hands gripping my ass—there are few things in life hotter than the sight of a slicked, soapy Lainey Burrows. Our last round was over the side of the bed, with her hands braced on the mattress, while I pounded into her from behind—that was a particular favorite for us both.
We had to be quiet, because of the teenager in the house, but not too quiet—because Jason was awesome enough to pick the bedroom farthest from the master suite. I think I’m going to buy him a present for that.
Anyway, Monday morning I get to the school an hour early to catch up on some paperwork that Lainey’s sweet pussy distracted me from doing over the weekend. I grade papers at my desk for a while, then stand up and start writing out the problems I’ll go over with the class today on the board.
I hear the door open and glance over my shoulder to see Kelly coming through it, closing it behind her.
“Hey, Kel, what’s up?” I ask, my eyes back on the board.
“I want you to fuck me until I feel better.”
My hand freezes mid-pi symbol. Cause there’s no way I heard her right.
“What?”
And then I turn around. Kelly’s black turtleneck dress is already on the floor, and she’s standing in front of me in a very sheer black bra and matching panties.
“Whoa!” I hold up my hand. “What the hell are you doing?”
Her big blue eyes meet mine, and that’s when I see hers are wet—swimming with tears and pain.
“Richard left me.”
“What?”
A tear streaks down her pale cheek. I’ve known Kelly since we were fourteen and this is the first time I’ve seen her cry about anything ever.
“He was cheating on me. With his secretary. How clichéd is that?” Her face crumples. “And she’s not even pretty.”
“Ah, shit.”
“Can you believe it? He cheated on me! On me!” She runs her hand across her body. “I mean, look at me! I could’ve done so much better than him. I could’ve married a CFO or an NFL player—or all kinds of other letters! But I married down so I wouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit and now he wants a divorce.”